The Creatures We Once Were
by kikibrown64
Summary: When I had first met him, we were so young. So innocent. So naive. So blissfully unaware of the monsters we would one day become. M for drug use, language, and adult content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

When I had first met him, we were so young. So innocent. So naive. So blissfully unaware of the monsters we would one day become.

He was beautiful. A strange way to describe a young man, but his boyish slightly famine features clashed so violently with striking sharp cheekbones and icy pale blue eyes. As he walked into the class room I felt my heart fluter as a rosy pink blush settled upon my face and neck. Unfortunately for me my blush would not be leaving anytime soon as he took his seat next to me.

My stomach lurched, as my mouth decided before my brain to begin a conversation with the boy sitting next to me.  
"He-hello. I'm Molly. Molly Hooper. Its my first day here. What's your name?" I studered out.

Coolly he turned his head, eyed me once over, gave a slight, barely there smirk and turned back to the front of the class. "Obviously your new."

"Ex-excuse me? How is it obvious" I questioned back to the stoic boy.

"Three reasons. One: Your uniform is new. First time waring it. No one buys a new uniform mid way through the school year."

"So, I could have just needed a new one."

"Well its possible, but doubtful. Also, three: your the first one to class, suggesting you don't have friends here."

"Could just be anti social" I counter. He smirks, "well your talking to me. Which brings me to three: your talking to me. People that go to school here don't talk to me." I raise an eyebrow questioningly only to be ignored as the rest of the class filters in.

The period was spent with sneaking glances from both myself and the curious boy, both intrigued by each other.

Me by his assessment of my being new to the school, and him by the fact that I had yet to scurry across the room away from him.

As the bell rang I pact my things into my leather satchel and the mysterious boy pact his in to one as well.

"Sherlock." He said. "What?" I sqweaked.

"My name. Its Sherlock Holmes." He gave a slight smile.

.some of the students who had yet to rush out the door to lunch had stopped to watch the freak and the new girl speak. It was judgment time. Her peers would ultmitly decide her caste in the school. Who would she be. Accepted, well liked. Or an out casted freak.

"Well Sherlock, sense we both seem to be loners, would you mind if we had lunch together" I mumbled rather quickly preparing myself for denile.

"Sure." Was his reply, and I felt a weight lifted from my chest.

We walked from the class room out to the foot ball field, were we climbed the bleachers and took a seat.

Sherlock pulled out a pack of marblo reds and lit one between his lips and offered one to me. I accepted it.

At 16 this would be my first cigarette. I was a pivotal moment for me. Till now I had been good molly. Sweet molly. Lovely molly. Adored by many friends and family. Molly who never touched drugs, alcohol, much less cigarettes.

But Molly needed, craved even, change. When my parents passed away last moth in a car accident leaving me with my wealthy, but every elderly, grand parents, I thought that change would be a new school.

A place were i was no longer seen as "poor sweet molly who lost her parents". Oh what I would find was not the school its self but a ceirtan boy who gave me my first cigarette. The peculiar Sherlock Holmes, whom I figure a cigarette would not be my only first with.

He lit my cig and i inhaled the musky smoke, reveling in the burn fallowed by a dizzy rush to to the head. Exhaling I coughed a bit and sherlock passed me a bottle of water. "First time?" he smirked.

I took a sip and smiled meekly the mumbled "of many."


	2. Chapter 2

School continued, Sherlock and I would walk to class together only to receive judge mental looks of disdain from people. The freak and the new girl, a combination which struck fear into the hearts of our ignorant peers.

After class we often found our self's at the football field smoking, laughing and mocking at the ape like boys making fools of them self's and groping at their cookie cutter girlfriends.

When school was over I had the option of one: calling the chauffeur hired by my grandparents to take me home were ever, or two: I could walk the three kilometres home.

Most often I chose the second option. For two reasons the first being, I can from a middle class family and found it odd and uncomfortable to have a chauffeur. The second being my new found fear of cars, after the accident I had been left with sever anxiety.

Being in an car causes me have flashbacks to the night of the accident, all can think of is the lifeless bodies of my parents, bleeding, vacant eyes staring, limp, dead. The sting of the shattered glass beneath my palms as I climbed out of the car.

Usually I see sherlock climb into a sleek black Mercedes after the final bell of the school day, today was no exception.

As I walk home on this chilly spring afternoon I cold feel my cheeks and nose be not by the stinging cold air. The fridges wind pierced my layers of tights, cardigan and heavy wool coat. The ice from this morning had not melted and the crunch of slushy beneath my feet.

It reminded me of cozy winter nights nights sipping coca and watching black and white movies with my family when I was little.

As I clutched my bag closer to right the cold, I went impossibly colder and stood like a deer in headlights. A car had hit black ice. And was sliding directly at me.

As I faced my in pending death, frozen in place all I could think is "cars. The end to all of the hoope-" my thought was cut short by arms dragging me nearly four meters back.

The red Honda slammed in to the brick wall nearly hitting me, and sending a shower of glass, brick and car parts in all directions.

My heart bounded against my ribs fighting for escape and the floor seemed to drop beneath me. As I stood there in my saviors arms ducking from shrapnel all I could think of was that fate full night, as I fell to the floor I wasn't sure if it was the memory of glass digging into my palms or real glass.

Hand picked me up from under my arms and rested me against a wall. In a daze I looked at the face of my saviour. "Hi there sherlock."

"Hello molly."

"I think I'm having an anxiety attack," I whispered. "Yes you are." He nodes pulling out his phone and calling 999. Every thing turns to white noise as I look at the car a see a man in the front seat.

He was battered, a deep bruising gash across his forehead trickeled blood down his face, his eyes, stared at nothing, they were empty, dead. And in that moment he morphed from a dead stranger to my dead parents.

"Mum, dad..." I whispered, pushed off from the wall and moved toward the vehicle and looked the bodies through the shattered glass. I blink and look again, its only one man i reach through the window and take his pulse.

"He's dead." I croak. Then I see the girl in the backseat, she is uncontious. I smell gas, I take her pulse through the shattered part over her window. The engine catches fire, "Sherlock! Help me get this girl out! The cars on fire!" he hangs up the phone and rushes over, pulling on the handle only to find it broken. I find a brick near the car and break a way at the glass, sherlock pulls her small frame out of the car just before flames engulf it.

The ambulances arrived no more than a minute later.

Sherlock and i sat on the back of on of the ambulances after we gave out staements to the police. Him looking stoic and unreadable as ever, me a wreck of tears tangled, hair, and flushed face, an open book. We were a stark contrast against each other.

"you lost your parents in a car accident." He states. To exhausted to ask how he knew I just nodded, blinking away tears. "I'm sorry Molly."

With a gruff tone to my voice a whisper, "Shit happens."


	3. Chapter 3

After the cops were done with sherlock and I, sherlock offered me a ride home, but I refused to get into the car.

The accident and hit to close to home and although my anxiety had pass I was still a bundle of nerves, a live wire, a bomb waiting to explode, were the slightest thing could set me off.

"There is no way in hell you are getting me in a car." I attempted to sound strong, but but my voice cracks on the last syllable gibing away my inner fear and uncertainty.

Sherlock sighs exasperatedly, "well your not walking alone. Not in your state." I Humph and throw my satchel over my shoulder and begin walking home. He easily kept up with the quickest walking pace my small frame would allow me to produce.

We walked in silence for the remainder of the journey both of us greatful for each others company but unwilling to tel the other. Me out of embarrassment of my "crush" on him, and Sherlock out of his haughty pride.

When we arrived at the gates to my grandparents home I turned him and uttered the first words sense we left the sight of the crash.

"Do you want to come in?"

He gave a light smile and slight nod, and fallowed closely behind me up the drive.

As we walked in I heard voices in the living room, my grand parents and another man and woman. Sherlock seemed to know the voices, based on the look of surprise on his face. We followed the voices.

In the living room sat my nan, as eccentric as ever in a green kimono shawl covering a flowing lace dress and other odd bits and bobs of jewelry that she could tell you a whole story of how she got and were from. I loved that about nan, she didn't give a single care in the world of what you thought of her, in her ripe old age of nearly eighty she considered herself a free spirit.

Despite her odd appearance and character she still emitted an air of power and dignity that came with wealth. In a way she reminded me of the strange Sherlock Holmes both of them aloof, disconcerned by the impression they make on others, and hold a certain unspoken authority.

My grandfather on the other hand still maintain end the dignity but in a more classic way. He was old and his mind was failing him, it was rare but on ocation he would forget who I was, or why I was here, and at its worse were he was. It was a sad sight so when he had his fits I tried to steer clear of him.

The other two people in the room were a man and a woman who both appeared to be in their mid forties. The woman had a shock of dark black, curly hair which stood out against her pale skin and warm honey brown eyes. The man had red hair, was also extremely pale and had ice blue eyes.

"Sherlock dear," said the woman in surprise, "I was unaware you were friends with Mr. And Mrs. Vanderhigh's granddaughter." Sherlock shorter from one foot to the other uncomfortably. In attempt to relieve the tension in the room, I crossed the room and gave both my nan and grandfather a kiss on the cheek.

"Molly love," said nan. "Were have you been, its nearly diner." I gave a smile trying not to alarm her. "I-um got held up with-" Sherlock cut me off mid sentence. "She nearly got hit by car, witnessed a man die and saved a child's life."

Nan smiled at him "oh that's lovely dear. Why don't you two go do what it is kids do these days and I'll call when diners ready." I stood there dumb founded for a moment. At Sherlocks nonchalant explanation and her light hearted reply. "Um... Yeah sounds good, OK."

I walk to the kitchen with Sherlock trailing behind me, I grab a bag of crisps and two waters then we march up to the third floor where my room was located.

The walls were covered in paintings of suns, sugar sculls, and eyes all painted by me. I flopped down on the bed and watched as he looked through the nick nacks and mementos of my past.

Then he got to the cabinet above my desk, mostly likely expecting to front papers or pictures, but instead met a verity of a at least thirty different pill bottles. "My shrink is convinced, I need to take them. So granddad buys them because they will 'fix' me." I scoff.

He picks up my zanex bottle "there all unopened." I nod "yep, four months worth of meds in that cabinet."

He walks over with a curious glint in his eye. "We should try them. Just once." I think for a second. Should I really do it, then I remember this is going to be an adventure of first for me I decided that nearly a month ago. And shrug "sure."

He smiles. we take three each.


	4. Chapter 4

After taking the white bar shaped pills, we did not feel the affects for 30 minutes. The high hit me like a freight train.

We were sitting on my bed wrapped in the fluffy white down comforter trying to rid ourselves of the cold from the chilly spring afternoon. I fidgeted nervously due to our close proximity, "so, um, what exactly are we supposed to feel."

He pulled the blanket in closer around him, "Xanex is a muscle relaxant, so we could experience anything from euphoria, to drowsiness." He explains with a shrug.

"Hey sherlock?"

"Yes molly?"

"What were you doing at the accident." I mumble, I hadn't asked him earlier due to my state of shock, but as the drug worked its way slowly through me, the shock seemed to fade and replace its self with a relaxing clam that made me feel like jello.

He shifts a not closer to me making my heart flutter and a blush rise to my cheeks. "I was on my way home, I saw you and told the driver to pull over. I got out and was going to ask you if you wanted a ride home, then I saw the car and the rest is history." I nod nibbling on my lip.

"And your parents are downstairs?"

"Yes, we have been neighbors and businesses partners with your grandparents for years."

"Business partners?" I mumble more dazed feeling the xanax take more affect. Sherlock must have felt it too, because his eyelids drooped and a lazy smile made its way to his lips as he hummed his reply.

I realized we would need an excuse for our detached, dazed state if nan or anyone else were to come up. I rolled off the bed and dragged my bare feet across the the fluffy rug which covered the hard wood floor.

Laughter bubbled its way from my lips as the soft fibers tickled my feet as I made my way across the room to turn on the tele, then stumbled my way back to the bed.

I pulled my self up onto the bed and sat across from an intoxicated, blanket swatled Sherlock and giggled again. It was a strange feeling, it reminded me of the i accidentally got drunk when I was fourteen and was unaware of the vodka in the punch at my cousins birthday.

I was dizzy, and happy my body felt numb and tingled anywhere it got touched. I was the closes I have ever felt to haven.

"How do feel," I mumbled while running a hand through my hair tugging lightly at the roots, basking in shiver it caused. He looked at me with heavy lidded eyes with dilated pupils and chuckled deeply, "Good. Really good. Nice. Calm. My mind is in one place. Not a thousand at once. We need to do this again."

I nod vigorously. "I wonder... What could those other pills do to us?" He just smiles. Its a promising smile, an unspoken agreement that we would indeed find out.

We leaned back against the oak head board of my bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket eating salt and vinegar crisps, and watching bad tele.

My mind and heart we racing as I lay my bed with Sherlock Holmes. The mysterious boy who made my heart flutter with a slight smile. And if that wasn't enough to make my heart melt, he was holding me.

It had to be the drug, because in the two months I had known him, today when he pulled me away from the car was the first time he touched me. But I suppose near death experiences, and experimental recreational drug use were good for bonding.

I smiled and buried my head into the crook of his neck. So far I was up to four firsts with this odd, mystery of a boy. "Lots of firsts," I mumble as the drug takes a new turn sending me into peaceful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

I awoke in the middle off the night, uncomfortably still waring my school uniform, to the sound of heavy rain beating at my window. I went to sit up only to find myself pined down by a strong warm.

Panic arose from inside me but I pushed it aside when I saw the curly dark locks of Sherlock's hair, vaguely remembering taking the pills. It was all a blur of beautiful, lazy intoxication.

Everything was so soft, so lovely. I remember attempting to avoid the cold by curling up in the warm blanket and snuggling into Sherlock's side as we watched stupid tele. To my surprise he did not reject me, but pulled me closer.

I smiled fondly at the memory, as I pushed a curl of his forehead. Sherlock look so different when he slept. Often sherlock looked ridged, stoic and nearly twice his age, but now looking at his sleeping face, he looked at peace, and his own age of only seventeen.

I lifted his arm off stomach and rolled out of bed in a rather ungraceful fashion. I tug my cardigan off, fallowed by my wrinkled, starchy white button up, plaid skirt, and thick white stockings. Then slipped on a loose big tee shirt that hit my knees, and trudged my way down the cold empty hallway to the kitchen for some water.

I walked in ignoring my surroundings in my half awake state, with only two things in mind. One get cup. Two pour water. As I gusseled down the ice water, I became more awake. I poured more water and turned to walk back to my room and nearly dropped my glass as I noticed nan sitting at the counter.

"Hi nan," I whisper with a hand over my chest feeling my heart pound. She sipped her mug of tea. "About two hours after you and Sherlock went up to your room, the police showed up." She mumbled. "God. I thought the boy was joking when he said you almost got hit hit, saw a man die, and saved a child's life..." She rubbed circles into her temples. Then stood and held me in a tight hug rubbing my back.

"When they left I was going to talk to you two but when I went to your room, both of you were out cold. Oh!" She pulled back with a smile.  
" I got a picture. Too adorable not to." She sat back down.

"Well anyways both Sherlock's mother, Lillian, and I agreed it was best to leave you two, you must have been exhausted."

I nod feeling slightly guilty for the real reason of our slumber, but pushed it aside, "yeah, I'm still wiped... I think I'm gonna head back to bed nan."

She smiled sweetly. "Alright love, you should discuss this will your therapist. She may want to change your medication." I nod again and slip out the door and paddle back to my room, and slip back under the covers.

When I woke again it was early, maybe six. Sherlock had pulled me flush to him, head on his chest, leg swung over his belly. I felt warm, safe, happy.

The Tele was on. It wasn't on when I woke last night. Unless my tele was haunted, sherlock must have turned it on, meaning he was awake.

He was awake. And still holding me. I must have entered the twilight zone, but I didn't mind the least. He rubbed soothing circles into my back and I hummed contently.

"Good morning Molly." He said groggily. I sat up a took in his messy hair and sleepy eyes. It seemed how odd how we had goten so close over night. He moved his hand from my back to holding my hand. Why the need for the physical contact?

"Hey sherlock?" I decided the best answer would come if I asked him. "Hmm..."

"If you don't mind me asking... Why the sudden need for physical contact? I- I mean until yesterday you hadn't once touched me," rush out in one breath. "I- its not that I mind. I- I um... Actually quite like it. Its just um, curiosity I guess." I chuckle nervously. "I-just- I- umm-"

"Molly. Your rambling. I suppose its a few things. You Almost getting ran down by car mostly, but also the xanex, I don't know I just I feel better- more comfortable around you." He mumbles making patterns on my hand. He was no longer was the strange mystery of a boy to me.

I wasn't sure what we were but it felt right as we lay in my bed holding each other in the early morning watching tele. I hoped that there would be more of this. Lots more.


	6. Chapter 6

The music tumped loudly through the hot room, sticky bodies pressed against each other, grinding and gyrating in all directions. It made me uncomfortable to be surrounded by these young people pumped full of alcohol, hormones and other unknown substances.

It was a new environment for me, and if the circumstances for my being at the party been different I'm sure I would love it. But all I could feel was sick.

Cold seats raked my body, my stomach lurched with every step I took forward toward the big white double doors. And saw the bloody body slouched under the window. Dark hair plastered to a pale forehead streaked with crimson, hallow ice blue eyes stained through me. Sherlock Holmes was dead. Dead and smiling a wicked smile.

I woke with a lurch, gasping for air as tears pricked at my eyes. I looked at my clock, 7:03 on a Sunday morning. Without thinking I chucked on the first thing I saw, Sherlocks jumper he left here two days ago, denim shorts and rain boots and bolted for the door.

I ran the two blocks to the Holmes rather large, intimidating house, Lillian let me in and I didn't bother knocking on Sherlocks door as I barged in.

I let out a breath I was unaware I was holding when I saw his half clothed form half under the covers. He peeked open a sleepy eye and patted the large king bed, becoming me to join him.

I slipped off my shoes and crawled in. He look in my eyes and saw my distress, "you had that dream again." He states. I bite my lip and nod. He pulls me close and just holds me, its been this way for nearly four months now.

Just hugging. Nothing more, and it confuses me to no end. Most guys would be dying for some kind of sex, but sherlock was not most guys and seemed to prefer simple cuddling, but never affection in public. Sherlock wasn't one to show weakness, and as he has told me so many times sentiment is weakness. I guess I was his weakness, but only in secret.

"Every night were not together." I mumble in to his neck. He pulled back, "you should tell your useless shrink about this so she can prescribe you new pills. I'm getting bored with relaxants, and anti- depressants." He huffs and dramatically falls back against his pillows.

With a roll of my eyes and another roll out of the bed, I marched across the room and pulled open the heavy deep red curtains, allowing the sun light of the warm summer morning pour in to his dark room.

There were odd beakers, microscopes and Benson burners strewn across his desk. His heavy wool coat placed with care over the back of a chair. Periodic table, framed insects and new paper clippings littered the walls.

Everything was so lovely to me because it was so uniquely sherlock. But my favorite thing in this room was the one item of sentiment he kept. It was a framed picture of me and sherlock the day I nearly got hit by the car. It was the picture Nan had told me she took of us holding each other in our sleep. She had framed it and given it Sherlock as a gift for his eighteenth birthday two weeks ago.

I smile every time it perched on his bed side table.

"Your coming with me to my brothers party tonight." Sherlock informs me as he get out of bed stretching in and confidently saunters around his room clad only in snow man boxers. I raise my eye brows and question "I am?"

I had only met the older Holmes brother once at diner with Sherlock and his parents. He was rather stiff and disapproving of his brother. For being as young as twenty seven he gave off an air of a man closer to his mid forties. It was an uncomfortable evening to say the least, with back handed comments flying across the table from the two brothers.

"Yes. You are. I'll pick you up at eight thirty. Dress nice. Mycroft is throwing a big party to rub his new 'minor' position in the government to all his uni buddies and colleges."

"Will he care if I show up?" I watch sherlock shift through his wardrobe. He turns around pulling up a pair of dark trousers and shrugs.

"He doesn't want me there." He smiles the same wicked smile from my dream and my stomach lurches.


	7. Chapter 7

After walking around for sometime Sherlock walked me back to my house at twelve and reminded me to be ready at eight thirty. I informed Nan that I would be going to the older Holmes bothers party later to night, and she insisted on taking me dress shopping. "But Nan, you don't have to take me, I have plenty of dresses."

"Yes you do, but not for a black tie event. Were going shopping and that's the end of it." She says firmly. "You can consider it a small graduation gift," she smiles. I knew Nan was exited about my graduation last week and was proud of me for getting top marks.

On the drive to the dress shop Nan frequented, I caught off any anxiety of cars by nearly digging my nails into the leather upholstered seat. The three vicodin I took before leaving were replacing the pit in my stomach slowly with butterflies.

When the car stopped in front of a posh dress shop, I was sitting on cloud nine.

Nan chatted loudly with an old lady who wore too much make up and loud colors, most likely clinging to the youth that had left her decades ago. Although she looked like she stepped out of a jazersise class from the eighties, her style for others was impeccable.

After my many fail attempts to please my grandmother with the dresses i had picked, ranging from fluffy and pink to low cut, sparkly and black, most of which did not even fit. The old lady chose me a long black lace gown that clung to my silhouette in every right place. It had a cooler that extended up my neck, made of lace, no sleeves, and with heels on it would hit the ground.

To say I was impressed was an understatement. Whole she helped me undo the dozens of silk buttons we chatted.

"Your Nan tells me you just graduated." She smiles kindly in the mirror.

I nod "yes, I got top marks."

"Good good. Do you know were your going to go from here?" She asked softly. And I shrug, "I want to take a year off, but I just got accepted to medical school at saint Bartholomew's."

Her smile brightens, "my sister Kathleen owns apartments on Baker street not to far from there. She rents them out. I'm sure I could ask if she has one availabil."

"That would be nice even if I weren't going to school yet, do you have a card I could contact her with?" That would be perfect because I was looking for a place in London even if I weren't going to go to school right away.

At the register she scribbles down some information to contact her sister Kathleen Hudson with.

I carefully place the new dress and shoes in the car, and Nan and I go to the restaurant two doors down. We talked over salad, bread sticks, her wine and my water.

"I think I'm going to take a year of school off."

She looks at me with a perplexed expression. "Why?"

"I want time to do some soul searching, ya know? Figure out who I am. Find my place in the world. I've already finished school a year early, what harm can it do?" I pull my hair up in to a bun.

"Alright. But you have to go to school next year. I'm not letting you not go to university. And saint Bartholomew's is a great school."

"I will go to school. I just want to have a year of freedom before I drown myself in studies."

She nods and pays the bill and we return to the car and the chauffeur drives us home.

By the time in had showered, dressed, pulled my hair by into a chiffon and applied makeup sherlock was waiting in the foyer with my grandparents. I gave them a kiss on the cheek and struggled to match Sherlocks brisk pace to the car.

We arrived at a large house on the out skirts of London nearly half an hour later. When we first entered the house, it seemed clam and formal, but then as we got further toward the back end of the house music got louder and bodies closer together.

After a few drinks both me and Sherlock were clearly intoxicated and clinging to each other, we began exploring the house further, looking into room ton see what they held. Most were empty of locked, but one door we opened held a young man and woman using a credit card to set up lines of white powder.

The man saw us and with a smile invited us in. We entered. He offered us each a line of the powder and we accepted. After using the rolled up note to inhale the substance, I when from groggy and drunken to wide awake and alive.

The man and the woman, who I founds names were Irene and Jim, revealed they wee not invited to Mycroft's party either. All four of us left the party together and walked to Jim's flat to allow the high to ware off before retuning home.

We laughed watched a movie and by the time it was nearly one sherlock and I decided it was time to return home. Jim gave us a small amount of coke and his number and told us to call him to do this again.

Sherlock called a cab and we returned to my grandparents house.


	8. Chapter 8

We took our shoes off before entering the large home as not to wake Nan and grandfather. On tip toes we claimed three flights of stairs to my room. Sherlock striped to his pants and buried himself in the sheets.

I on the other had was having difficulty undoing the dozens on buttons on the back of the gown I wore, no thanks to the alcohol and cocaine that remained in my system making my hands shaky. With an embarrassed huff I turned to Sherlock with a forced smile and pleading eyes asking for help.

Still waring his sheet he released and exasperated sigh and got out of the large fluffy bed to help me. I awkwardly bite at my lip as he starts undoing the buttons at the base of my neck.

"I never told you, you look beautiful in this dress." Sherlock whispers, warm breath tickling my ear. A chill ripples through me as he finishes the last button at the very base of my spine.

His fingers stay there. This is what drew me in to him, he stares too hard, touches too long, and constantly tests his boundaries. His hands travel from the small of my back, to slight curve of my hips as he rests them there.

There was static in the air as he bends slowly, breath tickling my neck and every nerve in my body is a live wire as he presses a chaste kiss to the junction of my neck and shoulder.

If not for his hands on my hips I'm sure I would have fallen to the ground as my knees turn to jelly. My head lolls back as he places another slightly higher.

A breathy sigh escapes my lips and warm pools in my belly and he slips the gown from my shoulders and forms a puddle around my ankles.

I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or some new found confidence, but I turned, wrapped arms around his neck and cautiously pecked his lips. It was like a spark.

So I went in again, testing this time, listing my lips linger until he was kissing me back, pulling me closer. The kiss grew hungry as he licked my lips asking for entrance and hands traveled up my flank cupping my small breasts through a sheer lace bra.

A small moan escaped me and something in sherlock snapped as I tugged at his hair lightly. He groaned against my jaw and rocked his hips against my stomach. My eyes widened with shock as I felt his arousal, I couldn't believe that I, small mousy molly, had done that to him.

Even in the most intimate moments of cuddling, shelock was a void of any emotion. For the most part I believed he was asexual and just held me for my own needs. But to see- or rather feel, that he did in fact enjoy this intimacy, did wild things to me.

I tugged his hair again eliciting a deeper throaty groan and walked him backward to the bed. He toppled back on to the bed pulling me down with him in a fit of giggles. Still attached at the lips we crawled back toward the pillows.

I pulled back and straddled his hips. I was burning, for what I wasn't completely sure but as I met my body take over I became even more bothered yet satisfied at the same time. There was dampness in my knickers that was increasing with every kiss, fondle, and moan.

I gyrated my core against Sherlocks erection and gave a whimper at the electric charge it sent through me. With a quick snap of my bra clasp sherlock had my bra half way across the room as he latched on to a pert nipple and rolled the other between his thumb and four finger.

My head rolled back and I panted for more air as the room seemed to get increasingly hotter. When he bit lightly I hissed at the sweet mixture of pain and pleasure. He rolled us over and made quick work of both of our pants.

"Wait!"I whisper quickly. "Hold on a sec," I give him a lazy kiss as I roll out of bed and jog to my conjoined bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a condom from the boxes Nan always buys thinking sherlock and I have been having sex the whole time.

As I walk back into the bedroom, I see a rather erotic image of sherlock laying on his back up against the pillows. Hand lazily stroking his hard member, as he licks his lips eyeing me from across the room with heavy lidded dark eyes.

After my initial shock, a light smirk found a home on my lips as I tried to look as seductive as a seventeen year old virgin could walking the distance from the bathroom door way to the bed. When I reached him took over stroking him as I rolled the condom down him.

As I was stroking his condom clad member, he kisses my throat he runs a finger over my slick folds teasing my entrance. I moan and be come impossibly more moist at his touch. He rolls on to my back, and finds his place between my legs.

"Are you sure?" He whispers gruffly and I nod hastily. He lines him self up with me and takes one long smooth stroke in. I had herd horror stories of girls forest times being terribly painful, but this was just uncomfortable, more that anything.

Sherlocks brow furrowed as he tried to keep his composure, allowing me time to adjust. After a minute of heavy breathing and slow kissing, I moved my hips toward him signaling I was ready to continue.

Slowly while finding the perfect rhythm for both of us pain made way to pleasure and my back be gain to arch with every thrust as a coil formed in my lower belly. Sherlock grunts and moans became more frequent, as his head ground a spot in the junction of my neck, were he kissed and sucked.

He reached down between us were our bodies joined and rubbed my little nub sending my me over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed all around me as tremors racked my body and my mouth opened in a silent scream.

Sherlock soon fallowed me with a grunt a shudder of his own. We lay on my bed tangled in sheets completely spent. "That was good." I whisper breathlessly.

He chuckles, "yes. By far the best I've had." I sit up on my my elbows, "just how many would that be?" I question some what surprised, sherlock did not seem the type to sleep around. "A few times with Mycroft's ex girlfriend. I was sixteen she was twenty three. Nothing emotional. Just sex. That's why Mycroft hates me so much."

He shrugs, but upon seeing my hurt expression he pulls me close and rubs circles in my back. "She meant and still means nothing to me. Molly, you mean something, I care about you deeply." He kisses me. I know he won't say it so I say it for both of us, "I love you too Sherlock." He says nothing but rubs my back till we both fall into a deep sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke in the morning groggy and soar. When the previous heights events rushed back into my head, a bright blush made its way to my face. I look over to sherlock to confirm last nights events, and find him face down warning lightly into the pillow, bare bum out in the open.

I fight the urge to pinch his firm bum and leave the warm bed. I hang my forgotten gown, and place my other garments, that had been strewn around the room in the dirty hamper. I tossed on my dressing gown and descended to the living room and kitchen.

It was nearly ten thirty and I had not heard anything of Nan and grand father. It was peculiar, Nan was normally frantically running around the house, acting busy when she in all honesty was just bord and seeking attention.

Grandfather would sit in the living room reading the paper smoking a cigar, only to be scolded by Nan for going against doctors orders and would take the cigar and trow it away, to which he would mutter "damn things haven't killed me yet and I've had one foot in the grave for nearly a decade." And produce a new cigar and continue to read and smoke.

I let out a light chuckle at the thought. After not seeing a single note and searching the house and the back yard, I became worried. I walked to the opposite wing from my bed room on the first floor were my grandparent's room was located and knocked on the door. It was slightly agar a slowly creaked open.

The noise the door made shook me to the core, the darkness of the room did not help. I reached for the light switch and released a blood curling scream as I saw the scene before me.

Nan and grandfather were both shot between the eyes, laying in bed with there arms across there chests holding a bible and lips sewn shut. On the wall above the bed were they lay written in crimson blood "For everyone who hates his brother murders a person, and you know that eternal life cannot abide in anyone who murders a person".

As tears streamed my face, the edges of my vision turn black. Air pumped through my lungs faster and faster, as I choked on sobs. "Molly!" Voice yelled. "Molly!" it yelled again as my world seemed to dissipate around me.

I found my self sitting in the hallway as the sound of sirens pierced the air, people rushed around me as I stated dumbly through teary eyes. People ushered me into the sitting room where a blanket was dropped over my shoulders, and people spoke to me but I couldn't make sense of any of the words that came from their mouths.

All I could think of was the dead bodies of my loving grandparents, and the cryptic message over there bed. I know it, the saying, but I couldn't remember what from.

The world seemed to comeback from me as a felt a hand running over my back in a comforting manor. I looked up and there sat Sherlock, stone faced as ever, cold, quite, calculating. As noises, smells and awareness of my surroundings came back to me, I noticed the man sitting in front of sherlock and I.

I looked to be in his late twenties, he had brown hair and dark eyes. "Hello."I whisper brokenly. "I'm Molly." I say slightly louder and more confidently. He nods slowly, "I know, ms. Hooper. You've told me this three times now."

"What? I'm sorry. I've been in shock I'm guessing." I whisper shakily.

"You still are Molly." Sherlock says monotonicly. I nod and stand on shaking legs, and carry my self to the door. "I need some air and a fucking cigarette." I mutter.

Sherlock stays at my side and produces a Marbelo red for me, which I light with shaky hands. I rub the tears angerly out of my eyes as I inhale the burning smoke. The same man who sat in front of me moments ago walked up beside me flashed me a badge and said smoothly "detective inspector Lestrade. Can I have a word with you ms. Hooper?"

I nod sucking in more smoke deeply as I fallowed him wordlessly to side of the house were a padio table and chair set sat. I took a seat. "What can you tell me about this morning." He asks. I rub my temple try to cure my headache I answer all of his questions.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss ms. Hopper, if you have anything you can remember that seemed out of place please call." Slips me a card.

An officer escorted me to pack a bag, making sure I was not removing evidence. I packed my meds, under garments tee shirt and sweatpants. An officer drove us up the street the the Holmes mansion were she explained the situation to Sherlocks mother who was horrified and welcomed me with open arms to stay in her home.

By the time everything was said and done it was nearly ten at night. As I lay in Sherlocks bed listening to him play his violin, I tried to erase the horrors of this morning from my mind,


	10. Chapter 10

I had dealt with death and loss before, but this was an entirely different creature fr me to face. This was cold blooded murder, pure evil.

It was disturbing, gruesome and made me go numb with fear. Over the course of three days I had lost nearly five pounds from stress. My anxiety was out of control, the slightest unfamiliar noise sent me into a panic attack. Food had lost all taste and appeal. And I had lost purpose for life.

I was afraid for my life. What if my grandparents killer wanted me dead too? The worst part was my dreams, of finding loved ones such as sherlock or his mother or old friends friend's f mine and even decided family members, gruesomely murdered were becoming or frequent and violent.

My dreams and the situation in real life must have worried sherlock too, because he would obsess over the thought.

Three days of my moping in his bed sleeping off tears, and sherlock abusing his violin, things took a strange turn. Sherlock had not slept in seventy two hours and was tipping over the edge of sanity when a thought occurred to him.

Sherlock sat perched on the window sill, hands steepled under his chin with an unreadable expression plastered to his face. I had asked him once what he was doing, only to be shushed. "I'm in my mind palace" he would say.

He stood up rather abruptly with a smile on face, and pulled back my sheets. "Get up molly. We have some stuff to do." I raised and eyebrow and rolled rather ungracefully out of the bed. I took a quick shower and dressed.

Upon exiting the bathroom and entering Sherlocks room, I thought of the white baggy of cocaine and looked for were sherlock had hid it. I found it in his sock draw, which I new I would be scolded for ruining his sock index later.

I made two small lines with my credit card and smiled as I felt the burning in my nose and lungs after inhaling the powder substance. Soon as the drug work through my system I went from depressed, bed ridden, and groggy, to alert, euphoric, and unstoppable.

Every step I took to meet sherlock by the front door sent a euphoric shiver up my spine. I know the second he saw my reddened nose, glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, he knew what I had just done.

With pursed lips and a slight frown he took my hand and lead my out to a car. I got in the passenger seat, he in the drivers. As we pulled down the street the car was quite.

"Your cross with me." I note.

"Frustrated would be a better word. I needed you sober for what I planed to do. But now if my brother saw you he would deduce in meer seconds that you high."

As pit sits in my stomach upon hearing the disappointment in his voice.

"I guess we will have to post pone that portion of the plan. Now i think it would be best to remove any of our loved ones from potential danger, if we are in fact targets of your grand parents murder or murders." He states.

The mention of my grandparents death makes me go numb and cold, but it did not last long for my skin to tingle, and my heart to race again.

"We could move out of your parents house."I suggest. He nods thoughtfully. "Anywhere in mind?"

I think back to the old lady at the dress shop and how she told me of her sister and how she rents out flats. With shaky hands I dig through my wallet and pull out the business card.

"Kathleen Hudson. She rents out flats on baker street. Should I give her a ring?"

Sherlock nods. I call and talk to a sweet sounding old lady, and she agrees to show us the flat today. Twenty minutes later we sat in the car a few blocks over from the flat waiting for my high to die down.

My euphoria was replaced with anxiety and paranoia as a tapped a nervous beat into the dashboard. I pull a cigarette from the pack in my purse and mumble to no one "my lungs hate me." As I roll down the window and light the fag.

Sherlock looks over at me when I ask , "why do you think they did it," as I finish the cigarette and roll up the window. "Money would be what most people would assume, considering their wealth. But there seemed to be other motives.

The writing on the wall, also the mutilation of the bodies would hint revenge of some sort. The bibles indicate religious views, perhaps a cult or secret society. Often sewn lips shows sworn silence, so that tells me your grandparents were most likely members of the society or cult that had them killed. It seems your grandparents broke a rule and paid the ultimate price."

At his words, I felt emotion tighten my throat and tears prickling in my eyes. As a tear fell down my cheek sherlock swiped it away with his thumb. As he did that he said eight words that broke my heart but at the same time made me stronger.

"No tears Molly. Caring is not an advantage." I forced back my tears, put on my brave face, looked him in the eye, and with a strangled voice said, "you're my exception."

With a smile and a kiss to my forehead he whispers, "and you mine."


	11. Chapter 11

I'm sorry for taking so long to update, I've just been really uninspired as of lately, and I know this ones pretty terrible :P but I wanted to post it anyway so thanks for reading :) please review!

I shakily got out of the car and walked hand in hand with Sherlock through the busy London streets to the door of two two one B.

The sweltering summer sun made everything stench of garbage intensified by the heat making me wrinkle my nose in disgust, bright light reflecting off street signs making me squint, and a thin sheen of perspiration found its way to my brow.

The street was bustling with cars blaring horns and people going about their daily business while fanning themselves with news papers, magazines, or attempting to stay in the shade. It was strange they seemed so oblivious to the hell that occurred around them every underneath the seeming normalcy of the steamy day there was a more sinister side one would have to look deeper than merely the surface to see.

Not fifteen feet away from two small boys eating heating ice cream on a bench, a woman gave a hug to who would appear to be an old friend. Durning the hug the woman slipped money in the mans back pocket and the man dropped a small baggy in her purse, and they parted ways.A young girl maybe fifteen stared blankly at the cars driving by as she stood at the edge of the curb. Black smudges sat under her eyes were she had angrily wiped away tears, smudging her mascara. Her blank stare turned to one of desperation as she stepped off the curb toward the cars speeding by. As she stepped down off the curb a bicycle collided with her, and the cyclist help the girl up with a kind smile and she continued on her way home not once looking back the the cars driving by.

A balding old man sat in front of a shop shamelessly watching girls walk by. He stood to follow a pretty young brunette but quickly sat back down after seeing a young man put his arm around her, and waited for the next pretty girl he saw to come by with out someone to protect her.

I griped Sherlock's hand tightly as we neared the door, "its funny you know," I mutter."How people can go there whole life, living in one place, and not really see it. Its funny how people choose to ignore what they don't want to see, even though its right in front of them. I think it might be the drugs speaking, but they help me see Sherlock."

I drop his hand and point at four people I just observed, "pedophile," old man in front of shop. "Suicidal," young girl. "Drug dealer," man walking down the street. "And druggie," woman walking in the opposite nods with a smirk, "excellent observations, but your missing one." His eyes shift from me to a sleek black car, almost identical to the one we drove in. "That car has been following us since we left the house."A knot of panic sits in my stomach as I fear the worst that my grand parents murderers were fallowing us.

"Do you think..." I trail off not wanting to voice my fears. He shakes his head."No. I believe big brother is watching us. I mean that literally and medophoricly," He grimly.

When we approach the door I press the buzzer for 221 A, as Mrs. Hudson told me, and listened to the piter pater of feet nearing the door. A lady about my height looking to be in her mid sixties opened the door and gave the two of us a kind smile and ushered us inside and out of the heat.

"You must be Molly!" She shakes my hand and furrows her brow upon seeing my red glassy eyes, dilated pupils, and flushed cheeks. "My goodness, how long were you out in the heat dear!" She exclaims mistaking my strung out high as mild heat stroke.

I give out a slightly strangled laugh and nod "I have a low tolerance for heat."

"Well let me get you a nice glass of cool water." She hurries off and Sherlock and I are left in the door turns to me, "try not to talk to much. In your state you will probably just speak nonsense."I open my mouth to come up with some protest, but close it again realizing he is right.

My thoughts were jumbled and the a thousand places at once, changing every second. And it was more than likely a conversation with me would be pretty much the same way." I know Mrs. Hudson from a trial in Florida. I helped her a lot with her husband facing the death penalty."

"Did you get him off?" I inquire. He shakes his head "Insured it."

The small lady hurried back in with a tall glass of water which I accepted and greedily gulped led us up into the flat, numbly I fallowed.

Just as the three of us enter the flat, my high began its retched distention. coming down was just about as enjoyable as dying. the world continued to spin around me, my ears rang, and wave after wave of nausea crashed over me.

Mrs. Hudson continued to inform us about the flat, rent, utilities, and insesently reminded us that she was not our house keeper.I tried my best to fallow along, but let Sherlock do all the speaking.

within the next half hour the two of us were the newest tenants of a one bedroom cozy little flat on baker street. The rent wasn't cheep but I knew Mrs. Hudson was cutting us a deal, i didn't mind much because i was left with not only the enharitence from not only my parents but also my grand parents would move in next week. until then we would remain at Sherlocks family home.

The drive back was silent."Our first home together." Sherlock breaks the silence, and i smile and turn to him. "I think were going to share many firsts together."


End file.
